


Umbrella

by Cherrydoll



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 20:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4151937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherrydoll/pseuds/Cherrydoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: I forgot my umbrella and you offered to walk me home in the rain and I thought this would be the beginning of a cute love story but you're really shit at this oh my god my shoulder is so wet, hold the damn thing properly wth man - au</p><p>My take on that prompt anyway. Haven't written in forever. Whoops.<br/>But Bellarke is gonna be the death of me so I felt like I had to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Umbrella

"You have got to be kidding me," Clarke mumbles as she walks out of the small Visual Arts building. Standing under a small awning, she watches the rain pour down, trying to remember the last time she had seen it rain so damn hard. Clarke puts the painting she was working on inside the doorway, out of harms way. The last thing she needs is for the rain to ruin her piece: the project was worth 70% of her grade. 

"Could you not have picked a different day to recreate Noah's Ark?" Clarke yells angrily at the sky. The rain somehow starts falling harder. Clarke paces back and fourth under the small covering, muttering curses under her breath. 

"Of all the days to forget an umbrella." She sighs and kicks her foot against a pillar. 

"Not that I could hold and umbrella and my project anyway," she reminds herself, and feels slightly better about her absentmindedness. Slightly. The wind changes direction, and suddenly Clarke finds her little undercover sanctuary being pelted with rain. 

"Oh, my god! Seriously?" She gasps, wrenching the building door open and flinging herself inside. 

"I can't believe this. I only have to walk a total of two streets. TWO STREETS!" Clarke groans, leaning her forehead against the wall in a display of pathetic self pity. 

"Two street to Hackett Hall. That's all I want," she mumbles pleadingly.

"Just stop raining for five minutes, and then you can rain everyday for the next year for all I care!" Clarke hears a what sounds like a stifled laugh and picks her head up off the wall, glancing over her shoulder. It's a rainy Sunday afternoon and she has seen a total of two people on campus so far; both were office staff. She spots the culprit leaning on the wall about ten steps away, a bemused grin stretching across his freckled face. Shit, she thinks, he's hot. Clarke straightens her back stiffly, and tugs down the hem of her tee-shirt, willing her face not to turn bright red. Like the weather, it ignores her wishes.

"Please, don't let me interrupt. I'm curious to see how you convince the weather to change," he says, his smirk growing wider. Clarke pulls a face at him and turns to examine her painting. How long has been standing there?

"You need some help?" He asks, and Clarke doesn't need to look at him to know he's still smirking. Clarke fights the urge to turn around and slap it off his face. 

"I'm fine," she snaps a little harshly, pride and dignity answering before rational thinking can. 

"Ok, ok, calm down princess. I just thought you looked like you could use a hand. And an umbrella," he says casually. Clarke turns around and watches him pull a giant red umbrella out from his backpack. Damn, Clarke thinks. 

"You're heading to Hackett Hall, right? That's actually where I'm heading, so do you want my help or not?" The corners of his mouth twitching. Clarke sighs. Why does he have to be so fucking smug? He must know he's hot...

"Fine, yeah, I could use some help," she says eventually. 

"Sorry for snapping, it's just this weather is so inconvenient," she tries to explain lamely as yet another smug grin spreads across his face. Clarke picks the painting and manoeuvres it out of the building as the attractive asshole holds the door open. He quickly opens the umbrella and Clarke does her best to position herself and the painting under it.

"Should have done a smaller painting," Clarke mumbles quietly to herself, but he hears the comment and laughs. They walk slowly in the rain, Clarke constantly checking to make sure her painting wasn't getting wet. For now, the painting was dry, but she definitely couldn't say the same for her shoulder. Or her back. 

"My name's Bellamy, by the way," he says, breaking the silence.

"I'm Clarke,"

"Princess suits you better, if you ask me," Bellamy jokes. 

Clarke snorts. "Good thing I didn't ask you then, isn't it." The conversation dies as the wind changes direction again, causing Bellamy and Clarke to shift angles and positions to protect the painting. 

"So, what brings you to Hackett Hall? You don't live there, I would have seen you before," Clarke asks eventually, trying to start the conversation going so she has something other than Bellamy's strong arms and wide chest to focus on. He doesn't respond to the question right away, so Clarke takes her eyes off her painting and looks at Bellamy's face. He's looking forward, his grin gone and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

"I'm visiting my sister," he says eventually. Clarke begins to regret asking the question as the silence drags out. 

"I haven't seen her in a while," Bellamy eventually explains, "we haven't really agreed on much recently. Said some things I didn't mean. I guess it's time I see her and own up to my mistakes." He looks at Clarke as he says this, and their eyes make contact, and suddenly Clarke feels like she can't look away. Only when she stumbles and almost fall flat on her face do they break eye contact. How long they were staring at each other, she isn't sure. 

By the time they make it to the entrance of the dormitory, the only dry thing is Clarke's painting. Clarke's left shoulder, her hair and her entire back are soaking wet, and Bellamy didn't fare much better. Water is dripping from his messy black hair, and his navy blue tee is clinging distractingly to his back and sides. 

"Thanks for helping me out, Bellamy. You're a real lifesaver," Clarke says, smiling. "Even if the only thing you managed to keep dry was the painting."

"Anytime, princess," he responds, grinning. Clarke rolls her eyes and playfully nudges Bellamy's side. He responds by shaking his wet hair onto her. 

"Well, I'd hate to interrupt whatever is going on here," a slightly amused yet irritated voice calls out, which makes both Clarke and Bellamy freeze on the spot, "but Clarke, Raven has been looking everywhere for you, something about 'taco night'... And you, Bellamy, are late."  
Clarke stares at Octavia, dumbfounded. Bellamy gives a small, shy smile and says a little sheepishly, "I'd hug you O, but uh, I got caught in the rain..."


End file.
